


the second light of the candle

by crystallizedcherry



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: 30s AU, F/M, Military Service
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-01
Updated: 2015-09-01
Packaged: 2018-04-18 12:05:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4705412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crystallizedcherry/pseuds/crystallizedcherry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A teenager should bear the status as a widow already; Erika got the letter that his young husband was dead in the battlefield.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the second light of the candle

Erika could heard the chatter of women at the alley. In between the usual evening activity, children were shouting and expressing laughter. The boys then came with a soccer ball—she found out only by listening the others being so excited—and the play was started in no time. The round thing hit her house wall, and several times her window, yet she couldn’t help but smile.

At least, they were safe this time.

The petite woman put the teaspoon above the sugar jar, a habit she copied from her mother. She took off the white ribbon from her head, and bring the cup along with her when she left the kitchen.

Her next stop was _their_ house’ small living room. One she considered being only _half alive_ since the other part of her was gone. She stood before a table nearly attached to an ebony drawer. The top was only occupied by two photographs framed in cheap and faded woods, also a white flower she kept since the first week of this month.

The white ribbon was now formed into a butterfly shape, and she placed it beside the left photograph. Her fingertips traced the face of the memento, her smile was bitter but at least she kept her tears unshed. Erika then took a candle from the middle drawer also the match, and lit it up. Sure that heaven must be fulfilled by lamps and the abundant light emerging from corner to corner, thus Lovino didn’t need any single one, but still, she kept the habit. It felt so heartwarming to see his calm visage in the photo—which he hadn’t usually let the people to see—surrounded by the symbol of peace.

_Lovino Vargas_ , her gaze stopped at the letters. She curved her smile more upwards at the memory of her carving the name with a nail on the frame on a night, of which he had frowned upon and commented, _you don’t need to do that, it is useless_. But she had been persistent, ironically had no idea that the thing would only invite her tears unstoppably brimming on her cheek after the _news_. Even until now—her pressure was no longer capable to move her self from the reality.

“I heard that some soldiers will return home today. Or at least, tomorrow. Do you think our husband will be back?”

“I haven’t heard anything from him since he departed,” the other replied, waking Erika up from the frozen time she had.

Her tea was getting cold, she suddenly got an idea and it had her left the cup, it drove her back to the kitchen, and prepared more.

Erika brought only four cups with her but she made sure the tea inside the pot was enough for more than five people. Unreluctantly she opened her door and greeted the mothers sitting outside her window, putting the evening tea on the wooden table under her window.

“Oh, dear Erika! Sorry for our voice. And the tea ....”

“It is okay, Mrs. Francisco, I don’t mind at all,” she took a seat on the edge of the bench, “it is nice to have nice neighbors around me, I’m happy to share everything with you all.”

The four women exchanged glance to each other, and everyone seemed to say sorry with their eyes, directly to Erika, the youngest between them. She was only seventeen, as far as they knew, but she had to weigh the worst burden of all on her small shoulders, the reality every women in this alley—and maybe, in the whole world—feared of.

“Thank you,” one of them politely smiled, “I can pour this by myself,” she continued and subtly hindered Erika’s way to bother herself doing the service. And the woman do the thing for the other three.

“Are you feeling alone, dear? Have you invited your brother to come here? Sure he will spare his time for his one and only little sister. But if he was still busy, you can call one of us to accompany you for some nights.”

Erika smiled a little, and the fact tickled her. She hadn’t written anything to his brother since the last time they talked about Lovino’s military service. She was lonely, undoubtfully so, but she was still reluctant to tell her brother far away over there in the central Europe that she was no longer live with Lovino. Their young marriage a year ago had been a big issue for Basch and he almost hadn’t given his permission for Lovino to take away her sister to Roma—if only Lovino hadn’t swore with all of his life as the guarantee. And all of her logic could measure how her big brother would react to the fact that Lovino couldn’t fulfill his lifetime promise to keep her under his wing until her death.

And Erika got that questioning look from her older friends, yet the answer was still foreign even for herself.

“I will tell him later ... maybe. But thank you very much for the offering. I’m fine by myself,” she nodded once to ensure them, “your husbands are going to arrive soon, right? I heard the news in the market. Better to you all to enjoy your family time.”

Her neighbors seemed still feel uneasy. However, Erika, being the calmest and the biggest heart, nodded once again to to keep her mask at place.

* * *

When the night came and she was on her bed already, she contemplated on two choices life offered her. Sometimes, she felt so lonely and thought that it would be much better if she had child to at least keep her company in the hard times like this. However, at the second consideration it even could be harder to regain her composure if she had to bear the child alone, give birth without Lovino’s hand in her, moreover raise the kid all by herself. She was still so young, barely reached legal age. She could have moved on, or go back to Switzerland and be attached to the other man.

If only it was that easy to erase Lovino away from her mind.

In between her weakening awareness, someone was knocking the door. That person had to do repeatance for more than three times to draw her from her bed.

And between the low light, she opened the door which revealed—

—a man with miserable clothes.

“Lovi—” she gasped, took some steps back and her lips suddenly repeating the name. She was about to scream if only the person didn’t lift his index fingers to her lips.

“I’m not a ghost,” the young man took a single step inside, and closed the door behind him. “I’m real.”

“But you are—”

Lovino passed her, reaching the round table in the middle of their living room. Erika observed her husband from head to toe, still not believing anything. He still had both of his legs, but the right one seemed dying and he had to use a long walking stick. His left hand was hanging on his chest with the support of old and patched cloth, and he had one of his eyes wrapped in the similar cloth.

“I have a long story to be told. Come sit with me, dear? Would you?”

She melted at the warm voice—despite the miserable look Lovino brought home, he was still _her beloved_ , and she could not help but broke in tears in her halfway towards him.

“I ... I thought that you were ... were dead ...” she sat beside him, covered her mouth; her voice was utterly shaking.

“Sssh, I’m here, I’m here, Erika,” he hardly brought the chair closer to her, and he kissed her temple tenderly, “who said that I was dead?”

“I got the letter from your officer,” she bit her lower lips, and had to pause when he closed the gap between them to envelop her lips into a warm embrace, to recover the cold of autumn lingered on hers and changed it into his warmess.

“He made a mistake,” he was shaking too. “This is because I’m a worthless. A coward.”

“... How?”

Lovino threw his back to the chair. “This war is stupid. Everything is. And it looks like that there will be another big war over our head—it is stupid! But I’d rather be a coward and live my own peace life even in the forest instead of involving myself in silly guerrillas!” he messed up his hair and it surprised her; he could use his broken hand!

“Your hand—”

“I made up these things,” he skilfully teared up the cloth, also unwrapped one covered his right eye. “I was a back up. I witnessed that the invasion was getting out of my ideal. I wanted to do a desertion but it surely would put me into more danger and be judged as traitor. In a battle I pretended to be shot in the eye, and said that my hand was injured by accident. The others had no choice but left me when I insisted them to, ensuring with a reason that I could not be a bother for their fight.” He cleared his throat and looked into her eyes. He could not hide his smile and later he decided to lift her up and bring her slim figure onto his lap, embracing her until he could find the scent of her.

Erika cried on top of his head, and he buried himself on her chest.

“I was hiding in a native’s house near a forestry valley. He was an old man living by himself and didn’t mind his life anymore ... he said that he was okay being caught and shot, reason why he didn’t mind taking a soldier to his house. And my friends who could not find my trace must be thinking that I was dead in the battlefield. But I’m here, Erika, I am here!” he was so emotional at the part, “I’m coming back home only for you and our lives ....”

She clutched his shirt, and as the answer he kissed her neck.

“I’d rather be judged as a coward but at the same time I’m happy to live with you, than dying in the battlefield but no one acknowledged me as a hero!”

And the dim moon of spring told the night, _this is going to rain. Rain of water but the air is filled by warm love, O weather!_

“Better be a hero for someone than died also buried in foreign place but no one fucking thought that I gave a great contribution, Erika ...” he trembled, almost screamed his fear and anger if she didn’t kiss his hair.

“It is okay, Lovino ... I do understand you ....”

He raised his head to meet her gaze,

“Let’s begin the life once again.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Italy invaded Albania in April 7, 1939, as an effort to follow Nazi Germany's success of conquering Prague. Based on what I read, Italy and Albania could be considered 'united' after the invasion, and even before that time, Albania had been dependent on Italy in the term of economy already. So this fic's setting is based on that event, Romano was a part of Il Duce's troops. Don't be hesitate to correct if I did wrong at any point!


End file.
